


Nights Spent Alone

by WingedChickadee



Series: Ten's Adventures of Misfortune (and maybe some not so bad adventures) [4]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Self Isolation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 14:11:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14498736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedChickadee/pseuds/WingedChickadee
Summary: Nights spent alone is a dangerous game to play, even when Ten has their Ghost with them. Nightmares and hurtful thoughts can only be solved so well on their own. But a cold shoulder and silence can bring about terrible ways of handling them.~~ OrTwo instances where Ten woke up from terrible nightmares.One where Ten tried to reach out, the other when they learned their lesson.





	Nights Spent Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, realized this after I posted it lol. But the continuity of this is continued from the other for works in this little “Ten’s life sucks but there are happy moments I swear” series.  
> You can read it by itself just fine, but some names might be off.  
> (Also notes at end for some other info)

The town of Noc is asleep peacefully. There are the sounds of nocturnal insects chirping throughout the otherwise quiet air. Some lights still glow from different houses across the town with a few bars still are open; which bring sounds of drunken activists into the summer night air. The stars above twinkle and shine with not a cloud in the sky.

It would be an otherwise peaceful night. There are no Fallen creeping toward the walls, and there are no Cabal ships flying off in the distance. There is no war this clear night, no physical one at least.

At the very back of this town called Noc, there is a house. A house that is very old and seems to be put together with mismatched parts; it looks like it is barely being held together.

Now in this house there is no silence. There is no peaceful sleep. On a bed far to large for the single owner there is a Guardian laying in it. This Guardian is writhing in underneath thin sheets, a metallic ghost hovers above them shouting for them to wake up. The Guardian does not hear. They are screaming so loud and guttural that the Ghost fears they may damage their voice.

“STOP! COME BACK! PLEASE!” Their cries are not heard by anyone but the Ghost.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry please come back! Please please please,” the poor Guardian continues to beg.

“NO!”

At this Ten shoots forward and grips their hair tightly. Sobs still wracking them over and over again. Ten’s hazel eyes trying to find something in the darkness, anything to to grasp onto. Their mind filled with the chittering of Fallen and the cloaks of loved ones flapping in the wind. The last words they heard and ones they wish they didn’t.

Another sob breaks through the silence of the room. The ghost Zol hovers above them and moves to be in front of his Guardian. He sees the tears in their eyes and the pure fear in them.

“Ten...”

They rock back and forth, gripping their head so tightly. Their eyes are distant and not fully there. Zol whirs softly, nudging their cheek. Ten’s eyes stay unfocused.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry..” Ten mumbles as they sob again.

Zol nudges their cheek again and mumbles, “Ten, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

Ten shakes their head and finally looks up at Zol. They sniffles and rub their eyes. Zol feels a pang of sadness at the just desperate and fearful look they have.

Ten shakes their head and clutches the cloak tighter to their body. They curl into a tight ball. The bed is too big and they feel so small right now, but they can’t bring themself to move out of it. The broken Guardian cannot get themself to release the cloak.

Zol spins in his form of nervous pacing. He doesn’t know what to do. He used too. He used to know and now the people he’d call are dead. Except for one. But Zol isn’t sure that he would answer..

Ten’s face is hidden by the cloak they clutch so dearly. It is the last thing. Sobs pull themself from their throat with a painfully broken noise to them. It goes on to the point where after ever sob they cough, and cough, and cough. Ten can’t breathe and the cloak they cherish feels like it too is choking them. They won’t remove it. They can’t. It’s all that’s left.

“Ten just breathe, please. Just take deep breaths okay?” Zol tries to console his friend.

It works a bit, along with constant words of encouragement and coaching from the worried Ghost. He has been trying to reach a call through to him but it’s been silence. Utter silence. Zol shoves the ever growing anger away, for now. Ten comes first.

“You’re doing great Ten.”

What feels like a single hour or two stretched out for twelve, Ten eventually can breathe calmly again. The nightmare that gripped them releasing just enough. They stare at Zol and feel the anger. Ten’s Ghost is never good at hiding anything he is feeling, especially from them. They both share that in common.

‘You tried to call him.’

It isn’t a question, it‘s a statement. Zol knows Ten knows. He knew they’d find out as soon as he tried to call him.

“I did.“

The words left unspoken don’t need to be acknowledge. Ten knows what Zol did not say. It’s a constant by now.

“Are you going to try to go back to sleep?”

Ten shakes their head and sits up. Zol rests on their knee. He lets out of soft worried hum when a certain thought comes into Ten’s mind.

“You want me too-“

‘Please? Maybe he’ll answer now.’

Zol sighs and tries again to reach the wayward Guardian. He tries three more times for Ten. Nothing. He wants to strangle this stupid Warlock alive at this moment. But he won’t. He shoves his poorly hidden anger away again.

‘I want to send him a message at least..’

“I know Ten. Maybe he’s just busy right now fighting something and he’ll get back to you soon. But...what do you want to say to him?’

Hazel eyes shift away from the overly bright light of Zol and towards the dark shadows of the far to large room. They stare for a moment. Maybe they hope the darkness will give them the words they don’t have. Maybe he is right there, just out of sight and reach. With a shake of their head they turn back to Zol. Foolish stupid hope.

‘Hey Osiris. It’s...it’s been awhile. I hope you’re doing well. I um...I miss you and wish you’d come visit Noc. You know it isn’t like the city, even if you never actually came to see it. I meant the laws though. You could just stay here and then go off to do your research and no one would bother you. I mean I’d make sure you took a break, but that’s it. Even if you don’t do that, which is completely reasonable, maybe just reply to these? Any...of these..? Andal died and you didn’t come back. You didn’t come back for me, or for Ikora. You didn’t even offer condolences you asshole! You don’t reply, you don’t call, for all I know you could be DEAD! YOU COULD BE DEAD OSIRIS AND I WOULD NEVER KNOW! I COULD DIE AND YOU WOULD NEVER KNOW EITHER!’

Their hands started to move more frantic and the sobs make a comeback. Tears move in droves down their cheeks; hands stop signing to press against their eyes. No more tears. No more tears tonight no matter how much they want to cry.

“Do you want me to send it?”

Before they could think they nodded their head. He wouldn’t see it anyways. No matter how much they needed him, or how much they worried, or how scared they were. He never seemed to see them, or care at all.

Ten lays back down. Not to sleep, but just to curl into a ball again and hide their face. Curse Osiris, curse his stupid research, curse Andal for going and dying. Along with that just...just curse themself.

Ten sniffles again and just lays there...they feel so alone that it is crushing them.

So many years later, decades later, maybe a century or so. There is another peaceful night in Noc, one of the few since the Red War ended. The days have been filled with hard work, and the nights with somber sleep.

Now the sounds of the citizens of Noc fill the air. A small celebration to honor the progress they’ve made. Over half of the damages have been repaired. One notable figure is absent. A certain Guardian and their friendly Ghost.

At the edge of town sits Ten’s house and in it the Guardian is in a fitful sleep. They toss and turn, crying out with broken apologies and pleas to come back. To not leave them alone, not again. They can’t be alone again.

Above them their faithful ghost watches with nervousness. It has not been this bad in ages. He waits a moment and they don’t wake up. Another and nothing. One more and they still do not stir. So Zol takes matters into his own hands, so to speak. He moves quickly and hits Ten’s side; not hard enough to bruise but hard enough to wake up them.

Ten’s eyes snap open and they stumble back. Their brain still haunted by the smoke and ash that filled their dreams. For a second they see the flames around them, then they see Zol’s bright light. It’s enough, barely enough.

“Let’s open a window.”

Follow his voice. Simple things to do. The stumble out of their bed towards the window. They throw it open and breathe deeply. Trying to get the scent of the smoke and burnt flesh from their head.

From their window the soft sounds of Noc great their ears in faint distant whispers. The party. They forgot about it, conveniently. Ten didn’t want to see the houses still left to build. Not right now. It is hard to walk past and not hear the voice of someone who died.

It is not Ten’s night, as in the air is the smell of smoke. It’s too much. They were barely grounded and then this. The shaking Guardian slams the window shut as they gag, sliding down the wall as soon as it closes. They can’t do this. They can’t handle this right now.

Zol moves closer and hovers in front of their face. Their sobs have come back in full force and Ten can barely think. They clutch at their head and try to shake out the screams, and smoke, and fire, and bodies, and so so much death. Too much death. Even with their eyes closed they can still see the flames. They’re everywhere. They can’t move a single muscle. Around them is screaming and people pleading for help. All they can hear are their friends and loved ones calling out; whether it’s cries for help, screams of agony, or scornful words. They only hear that.

Until a threat cuts through the soul cutting noise and their eyes snap open.

“I’m going to call him.”

The threat brings them back enough to shake their head. Not enough for words though. It is as bare a hold as Zol’s light was, but it’s a hold.

“Why not Ten?! You clearly need someone that isn’t me right now and...” Zol’s pitch lowers sadly, and he lets out the equivalent of a sigh. “Why won’t you at least call your friend?”

Ten’s hands are shaky but they don’t trust themself to speak even through the bond. It would be to easy to just slip back.

‘I don’t want to bother him, or any of them. Plus, I don’t think he’d-‘

“If that sentence ended with anything resembling about Snow not answering. You know it’s not true. He cares about you, you stupid stubborn Guardian.”

Zol bumps against their forehead and they reach up to lay a hand on him. They know he’s right. At least they know it logically. Somewhere deep down they keep doubting that; too many ignored messages from old friends along with decades of no one to help probably helped cause that.

Ten glances up at their ceiling and they again know they should call someone. Maybe even just send a message to someone. They know they’re not. This song and dance has played out night after night for centuries. Nothing has changed. They’ll be okay and no one needs to know that they wake up screaming and sobbing. No one needs to know.

“Ten..”

‘I’m...I’m just going to try to get some sleep.’

Unstable legs carry a near limp body over to the bed that is far too large. Ten falls into it and curls into a ball; one so small that you would have to look to even see them there.

Zol floats above and stares down at his Guardian. He should call any of them. Any of them at all. He resigns himself to waiting. It is pushing their luck to not reach out. He hopes he’ll never be forced too; he hopes there won’t come a night where he can’t help themself. Zol knows as he looks down at Ten that there will be one. He just hopes the people they’d need most would answer.

Ten knows Zol is watching. They know he wants to help them. But they don’t want anyone to know. No one they care about needs to know how much they struggle to sleep or to stay asleep. None of them do. Their friends can’t do anything, so why bother them.

They will sit here in their far to large bed and deal with their nightmares, and memories, and thoughts by themself. Ten knows they can do it. They lived through their first love’s death, they lived through Osiris and Saint leaving, along with Andal’s death. The feared Taken King didn’t end them, and neither did the Red War.

Some stupid little nightmares and overwhelming thoughts don’t warrant reaching out.

Ten closes their eyes and grits their teeth. They’ll be fine. They’ve dealt with it along so far, they can keep doing it.

They’ll be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just something I wanted to write after one to many nights like this. The feelings, not so much the nightmares. So this might not have been the best work I’ve written. Oh well.


End file.
